To the left of the area and directly ahead, the woods looked
black and solid. To the right the ground broke precipitously
away Into an abandoned quarry working. Here the track
doubled back to take a shelving descent on the shallower side.
It disappeared into the water that now, some fifteen yards
below, filled the great cavity. The horsemen left the track
and moved across the weed-grown ground toward the lip of
There they dismounted and tethered the horses to a fallen
tree. Trevelyan stood in the middle of the group and looked
from one man to another. No one looked at him. Nor did
they look at each other, but off at the woods, or back at the
darkness of the lane through which they had come, or across
the lip of the quarry. For a moment they stood apathetically,
like strangers who have waited a long time in a railway
station at night or in an anteroom at a hospital.
Then Mr. Munn commanded, " Cut the rope."
The man who had killed the dog drew the knife from his
pocket and snapped open the blade. The long blade concen-
trated a little light to gleam dully. While the man fumbled
with the rope, Trevelyan stood stock-still. Although he wore
nothing but the overalls, and his bare feet were tangled in the
dew-drenched grass, he did not appear to be cold. Once he
shook his head and winced when the man, trying to insert the
blade in the knot, twisted the rope on his wrists. Then the
man made a quick, jerking motion with the knife, the same
motion he had made when he killed the dog, and the rope
fell to the ground.
Trevelyan brought his hands slowly and crampedly for-
ward. He inspected them, working the fingers and flexing
the wrists. Then he let his arms fall to his sides.
"Trevelyan/1 Mr, Munn said, and pointed toward the
quarry, " you get over there."
Several of the men held pistols in their hands, but loosely,
pointed at the ground.
Trevelyan moved toward the brink of the quarry. The ten